Liars
by antinomian
Summary: Esme is afraid to fall in love with anyone, and Zoë, is afraid to be with a girl. Both of them believe they can keep their relationship shallow and fun, but is that really possible? Find out.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: There is some sexual content ahead and mention of male/female sexual behavior, so here's a content warning for that. Also, this may become a couple chapters long if I decide to lengthen it. We'll see.

I don't know how Zoë Rivas has become my closet girlfriend, but she has. She likes the way my lips feel against hers, and I like the way her breasts feel against mine. We're hot for each other, so we touch whatever we can whenever we can. If she ever asked me, I'd totally be her girlfriend (because what the hell, right?), but she's never going to. The biggest difference between us is that I don't care if people know that I'm bisexual, but she'd rather die than tell anyone she's gay. Tristan knows, Grace knows, I know, and I think even Winston knows deep down, but Zoë seems to think she has the whole thing covered up. It's funny how she'll actually argue with _me_ about whether or not she's gay. She picks the funniest times to do it too, like right after she's gone down on me for a good fifteen minutes.

"I don't like girls," she'll say. "I just…things are complicated between me and Winston. I'm feeling confused, alright? People get confused."

I laugh at the same girl who just made my body quiver with pleasure because I'm cruel like that. "Of course it is, silly. You don't like boys."

Her expression grows dark, and she slides off my bed. "Says who?"

"Says my pussy," I say, just for the pleasure of watching her flinch at my 'dirty' language, "but I'm curious. Have you ever sucked a dick?"

Zoë rolls her eyes. "I'll have you know that I've had sex with _two_ guys, and I've liked it very much."

She's totally deflecting, and that's what I love about her. I like messing with people, and with Zoë, it's just _too easy_. "That's not what I asked you," I say with a mischievous smile. "Have you ever put a dick in your mouth?"

"Okay, no," she said, her cheeks rouging. "It uh…never came up."

"Of course it never came up," I say. "If I were a boy whose girlfriend only liked girls, I probably wouldn't be able to come up for her either."

"That's not what I meant, Esme," Zoë says dryly.

It's funny to me how so many girls find this insecure, self-loathing lesbian intimidating. I plant a quick kiss on her lips, just to be obnoxious. "Has a guy ever eaten you like I have? Or has that never come up either?"

She crosses her arms protectively at her chest. "Leave me alone."

"You came over to _my_ house," I say. "If you want to go, then go."

"I never said that," she responds quickly. "I came over here because I wanted to, okay? I admit it."

"Alright then," I say with a sincere, flirtatious smile. "So what part of me do you want to touch next?" I ask. "Or should I choose this time?"

"You're not funny," she says.

"I know. I'm serious."

She's pacing now. "How do you do it? How do you not care what other people think?"

"Because," I say simply. "There's not a single person on Earth who actually loves me. I figured that out around age ten, when I was first sent to therapy. My parents looked at me like I was a freak after that; once they knew I was mentally ill, it was like I wasn't even their daughter anymore. They basically just feed me because it's the law now. You'd think it would've been depressing for me, but instead it was kind of freeing. It's nice not being loved."

"How can that be _nice_?" Zoë asked. "If it's so nice not being loved, then why do you want me to be a lesbian so much?"

"Because you obviously are," I defend. "It has nothing to do with how I feel."

"Even if I am," she says, "I'm a lesbian with a boyfriend, and if you tell anyone that we're together, no one's going to believe you."

There is no way those words hurt me. None. Nope. I don't care what Zoë Rivas thinks about me. If she leaves, then she'll just be one more person who thinks I'm too crazy to love, just like my parents do. I survived losing Miles, and I'll survive losing Zoë.

Still, after Miles I told myself I couldn't do things the way I did with him again. If I get dumped again, I'm just going to let myself get dumped. No fake cuts. No bullshit suicide attempt. No crocodile tears. Just "whatever; see you later." That was what I decided over winter break, yet somehow I find myself unable _not_ to defend myself. I've never had to do that with actual, rational words before, so at first they get stuck in my throat.

"C…come on, Zoë," I say, feeling like I'm about to choke.

"Come on what?" she asks me.

I shake my head and step closer to her. "I don't get it," I say angrily. "You were _so_ devastated when Grace didn't want you last semester that you made porn with the guy she liked just to hurt her feelings. It was the end of the world for you when Grace turned you down, yet now that there's a girl who actually wants you back, you treat her like she's nothing."

"Y…you want me back?" Zoë asks, looking more vulnerable than I've ever seen her before. "I had no idea. I thought we were just messing around."

My heart jumps. What will she think if I say "yes?" What will anybody think? More importantly, what will it be like? Will all that love that pours from her voice when she talks about her old flame with Grace eventually be mine? I can't have that, can I? I thrive on being loveless and free, and she thrives on hiding.

"Maybe," I say, "but I'm pretty sure three is a crowd and you belong to Winston."

She looks at me like she doesn't know what to say. "I'm sorry," she finally says. "I don't know what to do."

And just like that, I'm jealous of Winston fucking Chu. A guy who's basically a lesbian's beard. Deep down, I know that if I'm jealous of Winston, I'm in a lot deeper with Zoë than I'm willing to admit. It's like a certain love for her crept up on me, and now I'm stuck in it. Against my usual chill, I am starting to almost understand Zoë's powerful self-hatred. It's hell when your heart wants what your brain knows you can't have. Still, it's not like I'll actually burn myself the way she does. I'll get over her, regain my chill, and go back to being the same Esme who does exactly what she pleases. Won't I?


	2. Chapter 2

Zoë and Winston have their presentation today. Seeing them together is ridiculous, so I expect the presentation will be as well. When they walk into the classroom, I have to suppress my laughter at Zoë's geisha costume. She is trying _so_ hard to make her fake relationship with Winston memorable with pictures and projects and other showy, public things. I'm guessing she uses those things to mask how underwhelming things are in private.

Just to weaken her confidence, I raise my hand and say something about cultural appropriation. I read on Tumblr that it isn't cool for white people to dress like geisha. I've never been heavy into social justice, but some vindictive part of me wants Zoë to fail. I want her project to fail so her bullshit relationship will fail. The weird anger inside me feels unfamiliar; normally I ruin people for fun, not out of spite.

Zoë and Winston are told to redo the entire assignment. It's a cruel punishment, considering they could just take off the stupid costumes and finish their presentation, especially since whatever the hell they're reading off notecards doesn't require the "konichiwa" and the costume shop. Degrassi teachers are weird. Still, I like that my cultural appropriation complaint is causing an actual problem for Zoë. Too bad I couldn't zing her for appropriating _straight_ culture too (not that that counts, I've read, since straight people are not oppressed).

When class is over, she practically pushes me against one of the lockers. There's passion in her anger. I like that.

"What the hell was that?" she asks angrily. Her makeup is washed off, and she's dressed in her normal clothes now.

I shrug. "I just feel strongly that the people of Japan deserve better than your mockery," I say with a smile.

"You don't even care about the people of Degrassi," she said, "and you expect me to believe you care about people in a country you've never been to?"

"Clearly I care enough about _you_ to try and sink this pitiful ship you're in," I say.

"Wow," she says, backing up a bit. "Real mature."

As she backs up, her sleeve raises a bit, and I see something I hoped not to see.

"Are you cutting yourself?"

Her smug expression turns to horror and she runs from me like I'm toxic. Do I actually feel worried?

Cutting is something I've thought about but never actually done. It's hard to play the beautiful mess/damsel in distress when you look in over your head from the first moment a guy or girl sees you. You have to wait until at least halfway through the relationship to fake-cut so that your date mate will wonder what the hell is going wrong and worry too much to let you go. My fake cutting was always about attention, retention really. Zoë's doing it for real, and I don't know how to help her.

She finds me as I'm headed out the door toward the bus after school.

"Tell anyone, and you're dead," she says.

"Relax. I'm not gonna tell anyone," I say. "I'd play the concerned friend and say that _you_ should, but I already know therapists are crap. You should probably stop, though. I've heard it can be addictive."

"It's none of your business," she snaps, walking away from me.

"Wait," I say, rushing down the steps to catch up to her. "Why are you doing this? Maybe I can help."

She rolls her eyes. "Like you helped Miles? Thanks, but I'll take my chances on my own."

With that, she storms off toward her mother's car, and I head to the bus. I've never really felt the need to _stop_ someone from self-destructing. Normally I encourage people to do it because otherwise, I have no friends. I have to fuck them up like I'm fucked up, or they won't like me at all. For whatever reason, Zoë likes fucked up me just the way I am. Maybe it's because she's already a mess, without my help. Still, I don't want her to be a mess. I want her to be okay, and I want to kiss her and hold her while she cries and make it better.

I've been crazy all my life, but only now do I feel like I'm losing my mind.


	3. Chapter 3

When I visit my locker at the end of the day, I consider making a quick stop at the counseling office on my way out. Someone needs to know what Zoë is doing to herself, and I wonder if maybe Ms. Sauvé could be that someone. The up side of telling Ms. Sauvé would be that Zoë might get help and stop cutting. The downside is that Ms. Sauvé would be legally required to call Zoë's mother, which would end badly. Based on what Zoë has told me about her mom, I think she's the kind that would be angry rather than concerned if she knew her daughter was cutting. Fuck, this is pointless. Adults are useless. I've known this since the first time I was taken to see a therapist as a kid, but it's somehow more frustrating when it's hurting someone other than me.

Just as I'm about to close up my locker and head home, Tristan nervously approaches.

"Esme, I think Zo has a problem."

It's awkward to be talking to my ex's current, but I realize that this conversation isn't about me or about my past love. It's about Zoë, who seems to be all I can think about lately. It's in my best interest to give a damn, so just this once I'll try.

"I know," I say, my own feelings of helplessness starting to sink in. "What are we going to do?"

I watch Tristan fold his arms while he thinks about how to word his idea. "Miles and I talked, and we agreed that we can't just tell on her and expect her to be happy about it. I mean, I learned my lesson about playing the narc last semester."

I feel relief wash over me. He isn't planning to involve me in completely betraying her, at least. "So what else can we do?" I ask.

"Maya saw some of her cuts too," Tristan says, "and the three of us were all thinking that maybe we need an intervention. It'd just be a chance to _talk_ to Zoë where she'd have to actually say something back instead of ignoring us, you know?"

Poor Tristan. I can tell he means well, but he has no idea what he's doing. "If Zoë won't listen to any of us by ourselves, what makes you think she'll listen to us in a big group? Don't you think she'll feel ganged up on?"

"I don't know," Tristan says tensely. "I just…y'know, we've got to do something. I don't want to watch another person I care about destroy themselves."

I know he's referring to what Miles did last semester, and I do feel a small twinge of guilt over that. "What's your plan?" I ask.

"I told Zoë to meet us at my place after school," Tristan says. "She knows she needs to be there, but she doesn't know why. I'm unsure whether to involve Winston or not," Tristan said, "I kinda want to limit it to people who already know what she's doing."

If he has to stage this ridiculous, awkward intervention, I'm at least glad he's thought it through that far. "That sounds like a good idea," I say.

It takes me a moment to actually make the decision to go to this well-intentioned but likely doomed intervention. I figure I should be there to keep things from blowing up worse than they have to. That's not usually my job, but Zoë seems to bring a protective instinct out of me.

Maya is there too, worrying herself sick. Tristan sits next to her, trying to reassure her that this won't be like "that other time" while Miles stands around with his hands on his hips, looking unhappy to be in the same room as me.

"Listen, I'm really sorry about last semester," I say to him.

"S'okay," he said. "It's partially my fault anyway. I shouldn't have let you give me those pills."

"Truth," I respond. "So are we cool?"

"Like a cucumber," he says, sounding too sour to mean it sincerely.

Once we're all settled onto Tristan's couches and such, Zoë walks in looking upset. "What is this?"

Tristan looks very presidential as he stands up and faces her. "We're all worried about you, Zo."

Her eyes twitch nervously around the room, like she's looking for an escape. "Oh God."

"We've all seen you cutting," he continues. "We think you're in trouble, and we want you to consider seeking help."

She shakes her head. "Esme? Seriously? Tristan and Maya I can believe, maybe even Miles, but _you're_ here too?"

"I figured I'd be better off coming than skipping if it had to happen anyway," I say.

"How about instead of coming _or_ skipping you try _warning me_ next time so _I_ can be the one to decide between coming or skipping," she snaps.

"This isn't Esme's fault," Maya interjects. "We're all just worried about you, okay? Whatever's going on, you need to talk to us. Tell us what's wrong, please."

"There's nothing wrong with me," Zoë insists. "Nothing."

I sigh, feeling a combination of frustration and worry overtake me. "I've seen your scars, Zoë. We all have."

She looks like a deer in headlights. I feel bad for doing that to her, but I know that this is important. When she finally speaks, she speaks with the kind of anger people get when they're really scared and won't admit it. "What I do to myself is none of your business. It's none of _any_ of your business, so why don't you all fuck off?"

With that, she storms out of the house. Against my better judgment, I decide to follow her.

"Did you not just hear me?" Zoë asks. "I told you to fuck off."

"I know, but listen to me," I say. "I'm not really into the mushy business, so please don't make me say this twice. You're pretty much the only friend I have, and it would suck if anything happened to you."

"Well it's your lucky day 'cause nothing's going to," she says. "I'm fine. I'm just under some stress, okay?"

"Stress that's entirely self-made," I say. "You don't have to come out to everybody, like not to your parents and the whole school, but you could at least admit you're gay to yourself. To me for fuck's sake."

Zoë actually starts to cry. "I can't. If I say it, even to myself, then suddenly I can't run from it anymore. It becomes true, and then my whole entire world falls apart. My mom becomes my worst enemy, my boyfriend becomes a beard, and what will I have left?"

"Plenty," I say. "You'll have Tristan. You'll have Miles. You'll still have a father out there, and hell…not that I count for anything, but you'll have me too!"

I know I should stay and listen to what she has to say and try to slowly reason out our relationship, but I can't. I get myself out of there, afraid of the heartache that her next words will cause. Fuck it. I'm starting to fall for her, and I can't ignore it any longer. I don't think she can keep ignoring it either, but I know she's going to, and I know it's going to destroy her. What the fuck have I gotten myself into?


End file.
